From the deck of our holiday house I have a clear view of the back of their property. It is to the right further down the hill from the two vacant blocks in front of us. Most days I see the elderly couple. She hangs the washing and he potters about. I have never been sure what he does since he finished the chook shed late last year.

This morning she comes out the back door holding a plastic kitchen bowl of kitchen scraps. Stepping off the verandah step and heading for the chook shed she shouts ‘Let me know when Krygios comes on’.

‘What’s that?’ from inside

‘Krygios’

‘What about him?’

‘When he’s playing - let me know.’

‘He’s Greek’

‘You don’t say?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t worry’

The fly-screen door bangs shut behind her and a cacophony of cackles, bwoks and other chook sounds erupt and are joined by a screeching white cockatoo.

‘All right all right I can hear you’ she heads in the direction of the commotion, scattering scraps as she walks.

Opening the flimsy wire mesh gate of the enclosure the chooks charge past her bwoking ravenously and soon I see their bobbing heads greedily attacking vegetable and other food remnants.

Inside the enclosure she spreads pellets and seeds from a pocket in her old floral apron then using the empty bowl tops up the small water trough from the tap nearby.

***

The chooks are spread out now. Each one moves independently of the others but in the same hesitant manner.

One spindly leg is anchored to the ground as the other rises and is momentarily held aloft before returning to the ground then the other one rises. All the time the chook’s neck and head is bent to the ground its frilly red comb hanging loosely to one side. It softly gurgles as it advances.

I see one chook its head down pause and scratch the earth with its claw then suddenly swoop and snap an insect or grub with its beak The others come running - tuck tuck tucking all the way but are rebuffed by their fortunate neighbor. The white cockatoo’s screech breaks out again and is joined by AAArk AAArk of a crow somewhere near.

***

In the coop bending to gather eggs the old lady talks to herself then stopping she spots me.

‘Good morning’ – ‘Would you like some fresh eggs? RI is broody again and we are getting more than we need’.

I remember that RI is the name they gave the first and only hen they had before the shed was built and they were ‘experimenting’ as she put it. RI stands for Rhode Island she had informed me.

Accepting the six eggs in both hands I thank her then ask ‘how is your husband?’

‘George is pretty well recovered and I’ll have to find him something to do. Watches too much television and needs to get off his backside. He’s talking about getting some more hens but meanwhile has bought - pardon my French - a bloody rooster. Talk about the devil – here he is’.

‘Krygios - looks like after lunch now.’

‘Good morning’ I offer.

‘Its raining at Rod Laver stadium and they have closed the roof. Krygios is carrying on like a chopped chook. Good morning to you’

‘Did she tell you we are getting a rooster. Saw it at last Sunday’s market.

‘The hippy type who sold it to me said chook communities are more cohesive if there is a male to lead them. He tells me a rooster would mean more eggs then asks

‘Ever heard of a cohesive chook community?’ looking in my direction.

‘We get enough eggs now’ she interrupts.

‘I’ve built a special coop and I’m picking it up tomorrow’.

‘He’s unstoppable when he gets ideas. Then something else will distract him. Anyway the rooster will get him away from daytime television’.

‘I only watch telly during the day when the tennis is on’

She interrupts ‘and the cricket and the football and the golf and …’

‘Well anyway I’m going to build a special cage for the rooster - I mean Chancellor that’s his name or something like that - that’s what the hippy bloke, called him or was it Chauser?’

‘Whatever are you talking about? Chaser? Who’s Chaser?’

‘Look the bloke told me this old English yarn … had to do with a rooster called Chancellor or something like that and a bloke called Chaser’

The penny drops … He is talking about Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales … Chanticleer. I surprise myself - the couplet comes to mind

This gentlecock was master in some measure

Of seven hens, all there to do his pleasure

I tell them about Canterbury Tales and Chaucer but I am careful, not wanting to come across as a ‘know all’ or hippy-type. My recall of that chapter in Canterbury Tales surprises me after so many years.

‘I thought at the time that hippy fella was probably an educated type – he had a posh voice and seemed to know a lot about chooks’

I tell him about Chanticleer’s girlfriend Pertelote.

‘How do you spell that?’

P-E-R-T-E-L-O-T-E

‘Could you write that on a piece of paper?’ What was her name again – Penelope? The way you said it –it sounded like petrolhead

I promise to oblige him and now later I am amazed what I remember about Chaucer and the The Nun’s Priest’s Tale.

****

I gave her my notes this morning and suggested if she wants to learn more I will get her The Canterbury Tales from the library.

She thanks me dutifully but I sense she is not favorably disposed to my suggestion.

I now regret mentioning Chaucer.

****

A couple of weeks later he is out the back and sees me.

Near the chook house is another similar but smaller structure.

‘Specially built for me by a mate at the Mens Shed’. He was a chippy before he retired and he put it together from old timber they had at the Mens Shed. Didn’t want to be paid so I bought him a bottle of Bundy –Bundaberg Rum.

‘Looks great’ I tell him. ‘Where’s the rooster? I can’t see or hear any chooks today – where are they all?

‘She took him to the vet yesterday. We had him here for a week and the chooks ganged up on him. It was like a relay race as each one took after him if approached. He would come on pretty hard, no finesse if you know what I mean. When the other chooks heard the goings on they came charging in to peck and claw him. By yesterday morning he was completely knackered’.

‘The vet is keeping him there for a few days. The trouble is he is still very young and out of his depth with so many chooks to deal with. The vet said all roosters go through a period of what he called ‘hyper sexuality’ when young and that he was too young to be put in with a mob of chooks who were not used to a young randy rooster.’

‘We have decided to keep him but are not going to call him Chancellor or Chauser.

We think Krygios is a more suitable name’

****

I My name is Chanticleer

am master in some measure

Of seven hens, all there to do my pleasure